


Just a moment

by Lacertae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Banter, Bathing/Washing, Bathroom Sex, Bathtub Sex, Bathtubs, Breast Fondling, Breasts, Bubble Bath, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Omnics, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Talk, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27052831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: *PWP, Zenyatta/Mercy* It is rare to have a moment for herself, and even rarer to be able to share it with Zenyatta, but Angela is going to enjoy every second of it.
Relationships: Tekhartha Zenyatta/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Just a moment

**Author's Note:**

> it's been like, lotsa months since my last smut and i come back with mercyatta bcs. sometimes a gal wants boob fondling, y'know?

**Just a moment**

The water burning hot, just the way she likes it, the tub filled with bubbles, the foam overflowing…

It is perfect.

Angela hums to herself, clapping her hands together. The only thing she misses is candles to place around the bathroom, but her early leave from the med-bay was a surprise, so she had no time to get any.

This is still good enough –a treat, after working hard all week… it feels like forever since she last indulged like this. She’s definitely going to enjoy it.

Dipping her toe in, checking for the temperature, sends a shiver down Angela’s back; she drops the rest of her clothes on the floor of the bathroom. Who has time to be neat, when the water looks so enticing?

It is almost like a ritual, slowly getting into the tub and sitting down, feeling the water raise to envelop her until her head and shoulders are the only things still above the surface. The heat welcomes her like an embrace, pushing away all the dirt and the grime of the day.

With a pleased sigh, Angela closes her eyes and leans back against the curve of the tub, her head nested comfortably on the edge, breasts peeking for a second before the foam and bubbles take over, surrounding her in protective walls.

If there is something she’s missed from the old Overwatch days, it is the large bathtubs –big enough that she can stretch her legs and still not touch the other side, leaving her wriggling her feet in giddy pleasure.

“Hmm… nothing better than a good bath.” It feels good to hear her voice in the quiet of the room, and she makes a note to herself –next time, she also needs music.

The warmth is already loosening her tense muscles, and the bath salt she poured earlier wafts up in delicate, flowery waves of steam, surrounding her.

It truly is perfect, and the only way to end a busy week of work fending off terrible paperwork and equally terribly needy teammates –she loves them, she really does, but they are incredibly demanding, sometimes.

Angela frowns, eyes close. If she has to rip that cigarillo from Jesse’s mouth just one more time while he’s in the med-bay she swears she’s going to–

The soft click of the bathroom door alerts her that she’s not alone, and she doesn’t need to open her eyes again to know who it is –the only other person who has the authorization to enter in her quarters.

“I see you did not waste any time.”

The amusement that colour her guest’s voice has Angela’s lips twitch upwards. “I rushed here the moment my turn ended… I would have waited for you, but you seemed rather _taken_ by our latest visitor.”

Zenyatta chuckles, the sound a cheerful chime. “Jesse can be quite clingy, when he needs his shots.”

Angela snorts, but still refuses to open her eyes, far too busy enjoying her bath. “That makes it sound like he’s a dog, rather than a grown man, Zen.”

“But is it not the truth?” Zenyatta does not move from the door, but is mindful to close it behind his back, so the warmth of the room doesn’t fade. After all, it’s fall, and the base gets quite cold in the evening. “He dislikes injections enough to make a fuss, and I couldn’t very well leave him unattended when all he wanted was some company… or someone to make a fuss after him.”

“Oh, that poor, poor cowboy.” Angela finally opens her eyes, sighing happily, and meets Zenyatta’s optics as he looks down at her head from the door. “And poor, poor you for having to deal with it…”

“You do not seem all that grieved by the hardships I had to withstand while you were getting ready for your bath, Angela.” Zenyatta’s forehead array flashes in mock-irritation, but the amusement in his voice betrays his real mood.

Her laughter is light and teasing, and her frame resurface from the water as Angela sits up, unmindful of her state of nudity, knowing that Zenyatta can see peeks of her bare, wet skin through the bubbles and foam.

In fact, she knows he is looking at her, though his faceplate does not show it, and with reddened cheeks she wonders what kind of sight she makes.

Hopefully a pleasing one.

With a coquettish tilt of her head, showing off her bare neck, Angela presses one hand on her chest. “You must be mistaken, Zen. I am, in fact, grieving…” she leans back again, and lifts one leg out of the water, so her knee and foot can flash pink among the white bubbles “… as you are not here to keep me company. Won’t you end my endless suffering and join me, to share with me this moment of relax we both so _desperately_ need?”

Zenyatta’s forehead array flashes a bit and stutters, and his synth makes a soft, chirpy noise of surprise. “Well…” he catches himself, and laughs at his own embarrassment. Even now, months after they started this casual on-and-off dating, Angela’s honest offers for company still take him by surprise. “It would delight me so.”

The impish grin Angela offers him as she shuffled forwards in the tub is enough for Zenyatta to shake his head, but she catches the sound of his fans whirring just a little bit louder, and it makes her almost giddy.

It’s rare they get time off at the same time, nowadays, and if they’re not working at the base, they’re off somewhere on a mission or another, and rarely together, so Angela will take all she can get.

As she glances down at Zenyatta’s lower body, taking in the large pants that hide all the goods from sight, she doubles down on that thought. She will _happily_ take _all_ she can get.

“C’mon, Zenyatta, or the water will get cold!”

His forehead array makes a flicker that reminds Angela of an eyeroll, if one was done through LED lights instead of eyes, and then Zenyatta removes his sash and pants with little fanfare. Angela observes his movements, appreciating the smooth, long legs, the curve of his silicone ass and the peek of his modesty panel as he turns around. She doesn’t know why nobody else is stepping forwards to claim him, with the weird beauty he carries on himself, polished yet battered, calm even in the middle of a storm, every movement graceful, but she’s rather pleased to be the first.

Zenyatta folds his pants and places them on the edge of the sink then turns around to pick up the clothes Angela discarded earlier, making a point of wriggling his hips while folding and placing them together with his pants and sash, allowing Angela to enjoy a show with her bath.

“You were truly in a hurry,” his voice is playful, as if he knows exactly what kind of show he’s putting on for her.

“And you’re a tease,” she tells him, because now that he’s here, naked and ready to slide inside the tub and join her, she’s restless with a bubbling anticipation; every moment she’s made to wait is another moment where she feels the restless excitement grow. “Wasting time out there, instead of here with me!”

“Oh, look at the time… maybe I should return to my room and allow you to enjoy your bath on your own–”

“Zen!” her voice takes a whiny pitch on purpose, but she can’t hold the tone longer than a second before she’s laughing, reaching out to grab his arm and tug him closer. “Inside, now!”

“Why, Miss Ziegler, so forwards of you…”

Angela swats his arm, but much to her satisfaction he finally climbs inside the tub behind her and sits down. The water jostles around their bodies, threatening to slosh out of the tub at the added weight, and Angela shivers at the metal that slides past her sides in a caress as Zenyatta’s legs stretch out.

She’s doubly grateful she insisted for him to apply the hydrophobic gel on his circuits earlier that week, or she wouldn’t have this treat at all.

Nested behind her, noticeably taller like this, metal and silicone against her human skin, the differences between them are both amplified and melting away, leaving behind the warmth of their connection and the familiarity of their bodies touching, her frame pleasantly cozy with warmth, his a little less as his cooling system works to keep him from overheating.

“How is this?” he asks, the low hum of his synth almost a purr.

“Much better, thank you,” she leans back, pressed flush against his front, and dips her hand into the water to grab Zenyatta’s.

Her pale skin looked darker compared to the bubbles around her, but his metal is a dark grey, scratched and chipped, even as his fingers are still smooth and soft in her grip.

She finds the contrast just as pleasing.

He sighs, the vibration of his synth tickling her nape. “It has been a while,” he murmurs after a moment, and Angela feels him shift a little as they both stay unmoving in the water, his other hand wrapping around her so he can hold her hand in both of his.

“A bath makes every problem feel inconsequential,” she says, and reaches out with her other hand to pick a handful of bubbles, blindly reaching behind her to place it on top of his head. “There!”

“I feel it’s less the bath, and more the company, Angela,” Zenyatta laughs, and nuzzles into her neck, sending a spark of omnic energy to her skin in a kiss.

The shiver that runs down her back sends another kind of heat wave through her, and she’s suddenly aware of his hands rubbing circles on hers, delicate and gentle.

“Is that so?” she makes a show of humming, even as his hands continue their gentle massage. “I take most of my baths alone, so I cannot relate.”

“You do seem to enjoy your… alone time.”

The innuendo has Angela close her eyes as she remembers one such time. “I do… but I like _our_ alone time more.”

“I do, as well.”

The warmth in his tone is enough to send another shiver down Angela’s back.

Zenyatta’s hand trail down from her palm, rubbing at the skin of her wrist, then higher, following the smooth curve of her arm to her shoulder, and then dip into the water, fingers splayed on her hips as Zenyatta tugs her even closer to him.

“Now, who’s the bold one?” but even as she speaks, Angela leans more into him, head tilted back and neck arched up, a smile stretching on her lips. “Not that I mind…”

“I would not assume otherwise.”

His hands slide up her hips, caressing her sides, tickling her before coming to brush against the skin right underneath her breasta, and then it’s a different sound that leaves her lips, startled but pleased.

“I do not quite enjoy baths, unless you can share them with me,” Zenyatta murmurs in her ear, and nuzzles her neck again, more sparks of omnic energy dancing on her skin. “And it’s been a while since we did. I missed this intimacy…”

“Zen…”

The massage is still slow, delicate, feathery brushes of his fingertips around her breasts until she’s pushing into the touch, wordlessly asking for more. Her breasts aren’t normally sensitive, but there’s something about him, about his _hands_ , that sets fire to Angela’s loins, figuratively and literally.

It is not shameful for her to admit, even in the privacy of her own mind, that she wouldn’t mind Zenyatta touching her all the time, exploring her body all he wants, whenever he chooses, for the thought of his hands on her makes her burn like molten lava.

Her breasts are fondled gently, tracing paths around them, on them, under them, and if Angela wasn’t already pleasantly flushed because of the hot steam, she would turn red at the simple touch.

“I would love to see you take a bath by yourself,” she murmurs, and she knows he catches her meaning, because Zenyatta’s laugh envelops her, warm and amused.

“I would have to decline. What pleasure would I get, if I couldn’t share how it feels with you?” His honesty shines through his words, and Angela shivers. Once again, she knows how lucky she is, to have Zenyatta give her such attention. “It gives me all the time to enjoy the sensation of the water on my chassis, allowing my processors to register the temperature…” Zenyatta’s hand splay over her ribcage, fingers gently digging into the soft pouches of fat, and Angela squirms “… the light tickle on my sensors…” his thumbs trace the curve of her breasts from outside towards her nipples, but stop before they can get there, rubbing the soft, smooth skin around them instead. “And of course, your body as well, Angela. Soft, and warm, and beautiful.”

Angela smiles, eyes still closed. “You’re… just jealous of my skincare products, admit it.”

“Ah, of course. It is only thanks to them that you are so smooth, and soft, and pleasant…” with every word, Zenyatta’s thumbs trace around her nipples, once, then again, and a third time, and Angela’s breath catches, her nipples hardening.

It has been a while since they’ve been this close, as well, so it takes nothing for her to feel the heat build between her legs, an ache that she wishes to chase away with Zenyatta’s fingers.

His body –soft curves, pleasant metal and silicone– is beautiful, and she enjoys touching as much as she enjoys being touched, but his _hands_ … they’re big, and warm, and his long fingers are beautiful, and the way he uses them on her, to touch, to tease, to fondle and massage… it’s like he plays her to a music only he can hear, her body responding to the briefest caress.

She can’t get enough of it.

Zenyatta cups her breasts and rubs the underside again, and she pushes back into his chest, her own hands sliding out of the water to grab at the edges of the tub, plump lips parting to let out a shaky breath.

“You’re a tease,” she breathes out, swallowing, and feels him laugh against her neck.

“Would you love it as much, if I wasn’t?”

His hands are warm and firm, and the omnic kiss on her nape steals whatever words she’d wanted to say.

Smooth metal palms run slow circles on her breasts, fingers massage and pinch her nipples, a continuous motion that doesn’t stop even as she starts to wiggle and writhe, the growing warmth between her legs more and more distracting as she shivers and shudders, and when a surge of omnic energy licks at her nipples she throws her head back and moans, loud and clear for him to know what it does to her.

It’s a heady feeling, and she can’t get enough of it… but she wants _more_.

She always does, when she has time to stop and think… and it happens often enough. Nursing her cup of coffee in the morning, blinking herself awake, she catches a glimpse of Zenyatta floating side by side with Genji and the ache blossoms within her.

In the battlefield, the rare times they are standing together, supporting one another, she feels the touch of Harmony brush against her, soothing her fatigue, and wonders about how he feels, what he thinks, if he feels the same pull towards her that she does for him.

The craving she feels at the thought of unravelling him as he does with her.

“If you allowed me to… ah…” a thumb rubbing her hardened nipple has her swallow “treat you, one of these days, I would enjoy pampering you a little as well, Zenyatta.”

“It would be… pleasant,” he admits, though there’s a fraction of hesitation in his tone.

Even now, with both of them fully naked in a tub, with Zenyatta fondling her breasts in such a way that the heat between her legs turns into a searing ache, he is still reluctant to allow her so much freedom on him, as if he’s afraid to fall, with no one to catch him.

Angela, rubbing her thighs together to try and soothe the ache she feels, idly thinks that he’s lucky –she’s never allowed anyone to fall. Not on her watch.

“I would love to touch some of your wires,” she continues, and gasps when Zenyatta’s fingers come to pinch her nipples, tugging a little on the skin. She shivers, and presses into his chest a little harder. His modesty panel is still closed, but his fans are spinning faster now, and she knows he’s as affected as she is even when she’s the one on the receiving end. “Dig my fingers in them and _tug_ –” Zenyatta’s hands continue their teasing caress, and Angela wishes one of them would trail lower, go where she needs it to, but Zenyatta _never_ makes anything easier if he doesn’t have to, and she knows this well enough. “Oil you up, maybe… that kind that glistens like honey, so I can slide deep inside and find all those lonely sensors you never touch yourself… the ones you never let _me_ touch…”

Zenyatta shudders behind her, and she knows her words are painting the kind of picture that he craves yet fears –total abandon, the trust he’d need to give to be able to let someone sink inside him so deeply.

The thought sends a shudder of pleasure through her, and Angela aches at the thought of her strap-on, the one she keeps in the drawer, the one she wants to use on Zenyatta during their next day off.

She craves more than that, though –she wants to take Zenyatta apart, until he’s raw and open for her, and then she wants to eat all she sees of him, and take him as deep as he can go, take and take until he gives her all he can, until she’s sated and knows he’s had all she can offer.

_Soon_ , she thinks, even as his hands, relentless, continue to tease her breasts, a few times dipping lower to rub her stomach, her hips, even her thighs, but never betwee her legs, never to her folds, to her aching core that wants to be filled.

_Soon_ , she hopes, and moans, arching her back, thighs parting in offering, but Zenyatta doesn’t take it, just continues rubbing at her nipples, teasing her with his fingers, squeezes enough to have her gasp, then pinches and caresses the tender skin.

“Zenyatta…” she wriggles in his hold, mind hazy from her own fantasies and his hands.

“Won’t you wait a little longer, Angela?” his voice glitches, his hands slide back down to her body, and then back up, returning to her breasts like they can’t get enough. “Your sounds are delectable, and I wish to hear more.”

“More of me moaning, or…” she swallows, panting, “or more of what I’d like to do, if you allowed me?”

He gasps, a soft chirp that is answer enough, and she smiles, tilting her head to the side so he can kiss her again, the omnic energy a pleasurable diversion from the ache between her legs.

“I would… I would have you beneath me, tied so you can’t move, so you don’t try to distract me,” she murmurs, delighted when his hand slides down her front, because she can feel it tremble against her stomach. “tease the wires on your chest, the ones that make you shake when they’re touched… and then I would part your legs and fuck into you, get you mellow and pliant before digging my fingers into–” Zenyatta’s fingers dance on her stomach, then lower, finally, finally, to play with her folds, the lightest touch that has her push into it, craving more. Zenyatta is trembling, almost fumbling, as he rubs circles around her folds, parting them slightly, and Angela’s moan is desperate when she feels the barest brush against her clit. “–digging into your wires, the… the ones on your hips, hold you down as I tease… tease you, make you beg for it,” the hand still on her breast flicks her nipple, teases her, the other rubs along the seam of her folds, teasing, slow, palm flat against her opening… “Zenyatta _please_ –”

“Continue, then,” Zenyatta says, and its as close to begging as he gets, even as his fingers reach for her and slide in, finding wetness to show how ready she is for him. “Continue–”

“I might… ah… I might get one of those toys, the ones that use omnic energy, get you hooked up on them, where I can control how much of it goes on your wires, and… and then I’d dig even deeper, even as I fuck you, so deep, so deep, get you to scream for me, get you to come, and come again, and then _again_ –”

Zenyatta’s thumb slides across her clit with the same slow, teasing flicks of the one on her nipple, they both work together to overwhelm her, and Angela’s thoughts of fucking Zenyatta mix with him finally pushing into her, his fingers sliding inside so easily with how wet she is, and he opens her up as she thrusts, so gently, so slowly, expecting her to need a moment to get used to him but she can’t, he’s teased her so much, she aches and it’s been so _long_ and–

“Zen, Zen, please, please, _please_ –”

She bounces and arches into him and his fingers go deeper, insistent as they rub her clit, her breast, her nipple, and she holds onto the bathtub, meets the slow thrusts with sharp juts of her hips, grits her teeth with a grunt and crests over.

The climax ripples through her deliciously, inevitable, and Angela shudders and spasms around Zenyatta’s fingers even as they continue to fuck into her, coaxing her orgasm out of her in quick, relentless bouts, guiding her through, milking it all until she has nothing left to give.

Goosebumps cover her body, but she cant stop, riding her climax until she’s dizzy with it, lips parted and panting, uncaring if she’s covered the bathroom floor with water and bubbles.

Behind her, Zenyatta’s synth is making soft, needy chirps, but even then he’s murmuring endearments, his voice glitchy as he praises her, soft and gentle and just as desperate as she feels.

His hand doesn’t stop petting her breast, his thumb still pressed into the underside of her clit, less intense but still present, and he continues to push inside her, knuckles kneading a spot that makes her feel tense all over again.

“I want that,” he breathes, and he sounds as ruined as Angela herself feels. “I want that,” he says again, lost in the haze of his own lust, and Angela laughs, happy and content, as she fumbles and turns around until she’s facing him.

“Then let me give it to you, Zen,” she says, and hopes he will, hopes he’ll let her in, even after the haze of desire fades, to let him feel the way _she_ feels when he takes her so deeply she feels like she could fly.

His forehead array is dimmer, but there’s a desperate quality in the way his fingers slide out of her only to slide around her to grab at her ass, kneading it, his other hand still refusing to move from her breast.

“If I have bruises on my breasts, I’ll blame you,” she leans down and kisses his mouthpiece, pressing their foreheads together.

“I will… gladly take the blame,” he says, and this close, Angela can hear the noise of his modesty plate sliding away from him, revealing his valve leaking teal lubrication into the bathwater, and his prosthetic cock flaring with teal LED lights.

The water is still hot, and hotter still is the fire inside her, barely appeased by Zenyatta’s fingers.

“Hmm…” lips curled up in a pleased grin, Angela trailed one hand down Zenyatta’s chest, fingers grasping his cock tightly, nails grazing the sensitive sensors under the shaft. “My turn to play now, Zen~”


End file.
